


Prompts After Dark

by Carbynn



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist (Anime 2003), Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types, Fullmetal Alchemist: Brotherhood & Manga
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Background Alwin, Drabble Collection, Ed's Filthy Language, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Pining, Romance, Tags Subject To Change As I Add To This
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-11-14
Updated: 2017-11-23
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:52:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 4,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Carbynn/pseuds/Carbynn
Summary: An ever-growing collection of short little Royed ficlets based off of random prompts given to me by a friend in the middle of the night. Initially a writing exercise to get into the mindset of this fandom and pairing, now my favorite way to procrastinate. Each chapter is a stand-alone fic that takes place in a different time period or a different canon, so make sure to check the author's notes for other information about each individual chapter/fic.





	1. All According To Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is my first ever attempt at writing this pairing, so it's pretty short and pretty tame. Post-Brotherhood.  
> Prompt: Getting Lost

“I thought you said you knew where you were going.”

“Shut the fuck up, Mustang,” Ed snarled. “Al an’ I grew up in these woods. I know ‘em like the back of my hand.”

“Alphonse grew, certainly, but I think you’re overstating just a b—“

“I swear to all that is holy I will leave you here to die if you finish that fucking sentence.”

Roy leapt at the opportunity. “So you admit that dying is an option? As in, we are so tragically lost that if you were to leave me here, the elements would certainly do me in before I could find civilization or before civilization could find me?”

“No, I mean that _you_ would be tragically lost without _me,_ a person who knows _exactly where we are, you smug bastard._ ”

Or, well. Maybe Ed didn’t know _exactly_ where they were, but he’d spent enough time in these woods that he was confident he could find their way out, even if everything did look overgrown and wrong and _different_ from the way things had looked when he and Al were kids.

“I would be tragically lost without you every day of my life, my love,” Roy said, clasping a hand over his heart.

“Fucking save it, you’re already in the doghouse from that short joke.”

“You wouldn’t let me finish the short joke, Edward.”

“For your own goddamn safety, Mustang, and don’t forget it.”

Roy heaved a dramatic sigh and fell back into step next to Ed, watching with a weary misery as the same lightning-damaged tree they’d passed earlier came back into view and Ed winced. Maybe they _were_ lost, but only a little and really, it wasn’t anything Ed couldn’t handle. Besides, it was almost a blessing. Their extended trek was saving them from an afternoon of watching Al and Winry make puppy eyes at each other from across Winry’s work bench while she hurled vague threats Ed’s way over the state of his remaining automail. A little bit of aimless hiking was a balm in comparison.

They walked on in silence for a bit longer, Ed desperately seeking out any familiar landmark and repeatedly failing. He stopped when they reached a small clearing and turned to Roy.

“You got your gloves with you?”

Roy frowned. “Of course. Why?”

“It’s getting dark and we’re probably gonna need a fire,” Ed mumbled, looking down and kicking at the dirt. “We’re maybe just the tiniest bit turned around.”

Roy arched an elegant eyebrow. “Then what’s that?” he asked, pointing through the tree-line to a row of small houses just barely visible in the distance.

Ed whipped around and followed Roy’s gesture with his eyes. “The village, of course,” he said. “Just like I planned. I was only jokin’ about the fire.”

“Of course,” Roy agreed in a tone that very much implied he didn’t.

"And you doubted me!” Ed accused, starting off in the direction of the little town.

“Forgive me for finding the idea of spending a night lost in the woods distasteful,” Roy said, following closely behind him. “Although…”

A pair of arms seized Ed around the waist and turned him on the spot, tugging him close.

"I can’t think of a better companion for the task.”

“Sap,” Ed accused, hiding his fond little smile in Roy’s shoulder. “Come on, you can feel me up later. We’re gonna miss dinner if we hang around here too much longer.”

“A tragedy,” Roy agreed, burying his nose in Ed’s golden hair. “I’d hate to deprive you.”

“Damn right you would.” Ed allowed himself to be held just a moment more before pulling away from the other man. He grabbed his hand and tugged him forward. “C’mon, bastard, before we lose anymore daylight.”


	2. One Year Later

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey so fair warning, this is super angsty and character-deathy but it's not permanent and there's a happy ending, I promise! Post Brotherhood AU in which Ed still has his automail arm and his alchemy because I Say So. Featuring dubious usage of the semi-colon and heavy influence from [But Not Buried This Time](http://archiveofourown.org/works/5595811/chapters/12894325)by the perfect and wonderful and amazingly awesome [Tierfal](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tierfal/pseuds/Tierfal)  
> Prompt: Reuniting After A Year Apart

Alphonse didn’t blame him. At least, that’s what he told him every weekend when he and Ms. Rockbell, settled and happy in Central, came by to catch up, although he quietly suspected that it was more to make sure he had at least one good meal that week consisting of more than black coffee and whatever Hawkeye could goad him into eating at the office. He’d only been doing his job, Alphonse insisted, and Ed had known the risks even if he’d disregarded them like usual and sauntered off with every confidence in the world that he’d be back in Roy’s office throwing a half-finished and vague report over his desk within the week.

His team didn’t blame him, either, even though they’d all been there when Roy had slid the folder over his desk, heard him outline the potential for things to go wrong, heard him ask Ed repeatedly if he was sure he didn’t want back-up and reluctantly agreeing after a particularly colorful string of expletives that Ed could handle it on his own.

Gracia and Elicia didn’t blame him, even though Ed and Alphonse both had been like sons and brothers, Ed falling into the role the way he fell into everything, with his entire heart and self. They didn’t blame him, even though Alphonse’s work at the university ate into more and more of his free time, keeping him away from them, and Ed’s absence rang clear and strong. Gracia’d had to reduce her hours at the café to pick Elicia up from school and be home with her in the evenings, evenings that Ed had spent doing his part to make up for the loss of her father, even if Roy blamed himself for that, too. Gracia was struggling, he knew, and he’d done what he could to help her but more nights than not saw him buried in his office under stacks and stacks of paperwork, and no matter how hard he tried he couldn’t even begin to balance out what she had lost.

If Ed were still alive, he was certain he wouldn’t blame him, either. ‘I took the assignment, jackass,’ he’d say as if he were speaking to an idiot or to a child. ‘If I didn’t want to do it, I wouldn’t have gone and you know it.’ Not that Ed would have ever backed down from a challenge of danger, and that was the crux of it, wasn’t it? Roy had tossed him the assignment knowing full well that Ed would take it, and Ed had died as a result.

It wasn’t uncommon to go weeks without hearing from Ed while he was out on assignment. He lived and breathed insubordination like a pastime instead of a marshalable offence, and Roy hadn’t been concerned. It wasn’t until, a month after Ed had left, when Alphonse had marched into headquarters and past a veritable battalion of flustered guards the way only an Elric could and demanded to know if he’d heard from his brother, that Roy knew something had gone wrong.

First he called the hotel and was dismayed to learn that Ed had checked out two weeks prior. The local command hadn’t had word of him in nearly a week, and a short door-to-door campaign pulled off by a few of Ed’s new friends turned up a similar collection of nothing.

After a few more days turned up neither hide nor hair, Roy and Al (against Roy’s urgings,) had taken the trip south themselves in an attempt to divine what had happened.

They’d turned up nothing but a house belonging to the focus of Ed’s mission bearing obvious signs of dangerous struggle and a basement of charred bone and chalk dust that turned Roy’s stomach and paled Alphonse’s tan face.

Roy had brought the house to ashes with a snap of his fingers and Alphonse brought the earth up over it, a final resting place for the souls that had been lost there and, although neither of them said it, for Edward Elric, whether his bones rested there or not.

Eight months later, after the paperwork had crossed his desk declaring Ed officially dead according to military record, Roy allowed himself to mourn. Roy allowed himself to regret.

There was too much he’d left unsaid. There was too much he had concealed, too many feelings he had buried under years of duty and propriety that he’d never even allowed himself to consider putting words around.

_Edward, you’re amazing._

_Edward, you’re beautiful_

_Edward, you infuriate me and terrify me and I think I’m in love with you._

Words he never had any right to say, but now that Ed was gone, words he wished he’d had the courage to say anyway.

The weeks blurred into months and eventually Roy had learned to live with the niggling feeling of loss, of emptiness that burned through every moment. He learned a new sense of normal; the normal of work days uninterrupted by the slam of his door being kicked open by a boot-clad metal foot; the normal of sedate bar nights with the team, an unspoken agreement amongst his subordinates that the general would not be allowed more than three very strong drinks in a single sitting, encouraged both by Roy’s track record with such things and by the ever-present threat of the business end of Hawkeye’s pistol; the normal of worried eyes and aborted conversations, because even though he was gone, the specter of Ed’s presence haunted everyone who had ever known him.

It was a specter on Roy’s doorstep that night. There was no other explanation for the knock, that distinctive rapping of metal knuckles on wood that had jarred Roy from his evening routine and forced him to the door when he would have otherwise ignored it until whoever it was got the message and left him alone. There was no other explanation for the very clear and very distinctive form of _Edward Elric_ , all golden hair, golden eyes, golden skin and silver limbs, standing on his front porch. He was no taller, but his hair was longer, his jaw sharper, his eyes a touch bit wilder, but he was _Ed_ down to the very ground.

For a moment, Roy was sure he’d gone mad.

“Are you gonna stand there gaping all night or are you gonna let me in?” Ed demanded, and Roy was too shocked to do anything but move aside.  Ed, clearly pleased to have gotten his way, marched inside and peeled off his coat, not the red one that Roy had earmarked as a constant but something gray and worn, military in design but not Amestrian, and tossed it in the vague direction of the coat rack.

“You’re dead,” Roy said, not bothering to hide the pathetic waver in his voice.

“Spare me. Al already gave me that speech and the third degree so you can just save it.” Ed was looking around Roy’s sitting room with unabashed interest. “Huh. I’dve expected you to have, like, portraits of yourself and framed medals all over every inch of this place.”

“You’re _dead,_ ” Roy repeated, paying no heed to Ed’s diatribe. “I signed the paperwork myself. Your mission, you—“

“Fucker caught me off guard an’ knocked me out. Woke up on a train in the middle of Aerugo, kicked his sorry ass sideways, spent a few months in some medic’s hut getting a few bullets dug out of me, spent a few _more_ months trying to keep said medic from starting a goddamn coup and learning how to walk again, and came back here.”

Roy could barely make sense of what Ed had said. “You were _shot?_ Aerugo? What _coup—“_

“Potential-but-thwarted-coup,” Ed interjected.

“You couldn’t pick up a _phone_ or send a _letter—“_

This seemed to deflate Ed a little bit. “Middle of nowhere, I told you, and by the time I made it to _somewhere,_ I… I mean, what’re you supposed to say to the people you love when they think you’ve been dead for almost a year? ‘Dear Al, looks like I’m still alive somehow, see you soon?’ ‘General, sorry, but my report’s gonna be a little late, sorry I made you think I was dead?’ It was… it just seemed easier to just… be here. To come here, so no one would have to wonder if it was true, and so no one would be disappointed if I died on the way back. Aeurgo’s not the friendliest country in the world, you know.” He scuffed a foot on the carpet, looking down. “And… I am sorry, y’know. For making you all think I was dead.”

“Edward,” Roy began, but cut himself off just as quickly. There was too much to say, and even after a year during which time he had done nothing but think of what to say, he was coming up blank. There was too much to unpack and still too many questions.  “Edward, why are you here?” he tried instead. “You should be with Alphonse.”

Anger etched itself across Ed’s face and his expression collapsed into darkness. “Fuckin’ fine. Excuse the hell outta me for thinking you’d want to see for yourself that I didn’t kick off on your _stupid fucking mission._ ” He yanked his coat off the rack so suddenly he nearly knocked the thing over and furiously began stuffing his arms into the sleeves. “I’ll have the report on your desk by Monday, _General.”_

Everything was going spectacularly wrong and Roy was still too frazzled to make sense of what was happening. “Edward, wait, please,” he said hurrying across the few feet of space that separated them and reaching out to lay a hesitant hand on Ed’s automail arm, surprised at how solid he felt underneath his fingers; he’d almost expected him to fade into mist. “I didn’t mean that I don’t want you here. Just that, I don’t quite understand why you _are._ ”

“You bastard,” Ed snarled, fisting his flesh hand in Roy’s shirt and yanking him forward. “You absolute idiot _bastard._ ”

Then Ed’s lips were crashing against his, furious and rough, and Roy’s thought process ground to a halt. He froze long enough that Ed began to draw back before coming to his senses and surging forward into the kiss, cupping Ed’s face in one hand and pushing his other into a fall of golden hair. He tipped Ed’s head back and fit their mouths together more carefully before brushing his tongue lightly against Ed’s bottom lip.

Ed’s resulting whimper was the most beautiful sound Roy had ever heard and he explored his mouth reverently, tightening his fingers in his hair and pressing him back until they made impact with the wall.

It was almost impossible for Roy to believe any of this was happening. It was a dream, surely, another cruel dream that would turn into a nightmare as soon as Roy woke up , reminding him of what he’d lost the opportunity to have. But no, Ed was too solid, too warm against him, and even his deepest subconscious couldn’t have crafted something as exquisite as this.

After an eternity but not nearly long enough by Roy’s standards, they broke apart, both breathing hard. He tipped his head down to brush his lips across the flush on Ed’s face, reveling in the heat of it, before drawing back to meet his eyes. “Ed—“ he started.

“You’re awful thick, aren’t you?” Ed said, tightening his hand in Roy’s shirt automatically. “All this time I thought you were supposed to some kinda under-handed mastermind but you’re really just as much of an idiot as anyone else, aren’t you?”

“I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Roy said, frowning down at him.

“No, you really, really don’t. Don’t you ever listen to what anyone _says_?”

“Edward, I really don’t—“ But then it came to him, sudden and clear.

 _What do you say to the people you_ love _?_

It was as if all the air had been sucked from Roy’s lungs and it took him a moment to regain enough of himself to speak again. “Oh, Ed,” he whispered, tightening his hold on the younger man. “How could I help but to love you?”

Ed’s resulting smile was dazzling. “Then why the fuck are we still talkin’?” he asked before yanking Roy down for another kiss.


	3. Lost Things

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> '03/CoS!Verse, except Ed and Al _didn't_ go back to Earth, because I Say So. Angsty, but it all works itself out. Mentions of wounds and scars.  
>  Prompt: Losing Something

Roy was currently in the process of tearing up the bedroom one-handed, and Ed couldn’t help but to feel sorry for him.

“Looking for something?” he asked, putting his book down and watching with interest as the hand pressed against the left side of Roy’s face twitched.

“You know good and well what I’m looking for, Fullmetal,” he snapped, and Ed winced. Roy only ever reverted to his old title under the most dire of emotional circumstances. 

“I haven’t been Fullmetal in years,” he reminded him gently. Then: “And watch your fuckin’ tone, it’s not like I stole your damn eye patch.”

Roy sighed and turned towards where Ed was curled up in bed. “I’m sorry.”

“I know. I know you’re sensitive about it or whatever. But I told you, I don’t _care._ ”

“You’d care if you saw it.”

It had been a year and a half since Ed had fallen back through the Gate to Amestris from Earth and dragged Roy’s sorry ass out of the freezing North and back to Central, a year since he and Roy had fallen into bed, and six months since Al had insisted that since Ed spent _all of his time_ _there anyway_ , that he and Roy might as well just cohabitate. It had taken some getting used to, but hadn’t been nearly the disaster Ed had been convinced it would be. Still, even through shared beds and showers and lives, Ed had never seen Roy without his ever-present eye patch. And it wasn’t so much that he was curious; he’d seen enough of scars and old wounds to last him a lifetime. It was that he couldn’t rationalize the fact that Roy didn’t feel like he could trust him enough not to run. He knew better than to let it hurt him, because he knew more than anyone what it felt like to be less-than-whole, knew more than anyone what it felt to lose a part of yourself, but the desire to _show_ Roy, show him in a way that just words never could, that he _loved_ him, was sharp and ever-present.

“I wouldn’t,” Ed argued. “You know I wouldn’t, for the same reason you don’t care about _my_ scars.”

“This isn’t just a scar, Edward. I’m missing a fundamental part of myself.”

“You realize you’re talking to someone with two metal limbs, right?” Ed asked flatly.

Roy looked momentarily stricken but carried on none-the-less. “That’s different.”

“Oh yeah? How’s it different?” Ed demanded, unfolding himself and sitting up to meet Roy’s eye. “Explain it to me, ‘cause I don’t understand how you can look at me, scars and automail and all, and say that I’m beautiful and you don’t think I’d say the same to you and mean every fuckin’ word of it.”

It was as if Roy had deflated and he slumped where he stood before slogging over to the bed and collapsing on it to sit beside Ed. “I don’t quite understand it either,” he admitted quietly.

Ed shifted closer, pressing his side against Roy’s. “I’m not gonna think any less of you, you know. You’ve seen me way worse off than just missin’ an eye and you’re still here.”

Roy gently brushed a loose tendril of hair from Ed’s forehead and brushed it behind his ear with his free hand. “You’re beautiful, Edward. You deserve so much more than a broken, damaged old soldier.”

“You damn idiot,” Ed whispered, catching  Roy’s hand tangled in his hair with his own flesh hand and twisting their fingers together. “I don’t give a fuck about deserve. What about what I _want?_ And in case there’s any confusion, I mean that I want _you_.”

“Edward-“

“No, shut up, I’m not done yet. I _love you_ ¸ you bastard, every last little bit of you, and I wouldn’t care if you didn’t have eyes at all because at least then you’d shut the fuck up about the dishes and the papers all over the desk in the study and wet towels slung across the bathroom and all the other bullshit I do that you put up with because _you love me too,_ in spite of the arm and the leg and the scars and the nightmares. I get that you don’t like the idea of me seein’ you without the patch because I don’t especially like you seein’ me without my arm or my leg but I know that you aren’t gonna turn tail and run when you do. I just…” he let out a frustrated breath, trying to collect his thoughts. “I wish I knew how to tell you I love you no matter what in a way that you’ll believe.”

“Edward,” Roy said softly, tightening his hand around Ed’s. “Please know that I have never once doubted the sincerity of your affection.”

“I know you haven’t,” Ed returned, just as softly. “But I think, sometimes, you doubt the severity of it.”

Roy paused to consider that for a moment, rubbing his thumb lightly across Ed’s knuckles. “Maybe you’re right,” he said at last. “But you’re young, Ed. You can’t know—“

“I can. I _do._ When I was on Earth, you an’ Al were all I could think about. I had new languages, new cultures, new history, new science, new _everything_ to learn, and _all I could think about was_ you.”

Roy was silent, looking down at their tangled hands in clear contemplation of Ed’s words.

“It’s late,” Ed continued after a moment. “Just come to bed. I’ll keep my back to you if it’ll make you feel better, but you can’t stay up all night looking.” He gave Roy’s hand a final squeeze before untangling his own and retreating to lay back down, curling on his side and facing the wall and well away from where Roy would end up.

Roy watched him move, a pang going through him when he realized that Ed actually meant to stay turned on his side. It wasn’t fair, he knew, to either of them. He slept better with Ed in his arms, nightmares kept at bay by the closeness, and while Roy didn’t know just how badly Ed’s nights were plagued with similar demons without him there, he knew that just a soft word from him could banish Ed’s panic and lull him back to sleep. He hated that Ed felt the need to distance himself, hated himself for it the way he hated himself for everything. And that was the root of it, wasn’t it? He could look beyond Ed’s faults and see beauty because he loved him, but his own faults were nothing but blights.

_Edward loves you,_ his subconscious insisted. _Even if you don’t love yourself._

Roy sat poised on the edge of the bed for a few moments more, anxiety cutting through him as he considered what he was about to do. Finally, he took a steadying breath and stood, turning on the bedside lamp and turning off the overhead light before crawling into bed beside Ed, dropping the hand from his face at last and pulling the younger man into his arms. He buried his face in Ed’s hair, steadying himself as he breathed in the clean, familiar smell of him. Ed hummed and pressed closer but didn’t make a move to alter his position.

“You can turn around, love,” Roy urged softly. “It’s all right.”

“Did you find—oh,” Ed said, going still with surprise in Roy’s arms while Roy froze in anticipation, hardly daring to breathe. Ed’s eyes, glowing amber in the lamplight, roamed his face, taking in the sunken, scarred eye socket.

“It’s ugly,” Roy said. “I know it is. You don’t have to-“

“Shut up,” Ed murmured. He leaned in and a brushed his lips lightly over the scarring, the ridge of Roy’s cheek bone, the puckered tissue at his temple, everything Roy had spent so long hiding from him, as if there had never been ugliness there at all. Ed’s lips disappeared briefly before returning to press a kiss to the corner of Roy’s mouth. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me for doing something I should have had the courage to do months ago.”

“It doesn’t have anything to do with courage.” Ed said, pressing a final kiss to Roy’s lips before drawing back and settling his head against his chest. “Go to sleep. I love you.”


	4. Blackberry Pie

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did this instead of working on the actual fic I'm working on because I Am Trash. This is a continuation of the post-Brotherhood Resembool vacation from Chapter 1. Reading Chapter 1 to understand this chapter is by no means a requirement.   
> Prompt: Picking blackberries

“As much as I absofuckinglutely _don’t_ miss the automail, I will say that nothing really tops steel for stainability, or lack thereof,” Ed said, dropping a handful of blackberries into the basket at his feet and making a face at the purple smears they left behind.

“I don’t know, love, I think purple suits you,” Roy said off-handedly, working on the bush next to Ed’s without sparing him a glance. He’d been complaining for what had felt like hours and Roy had grown mostly immune.

“You think everything suits me.” Another handful of berries went into the basket. “Y’know what really suits me?”

“Winry’s blackberry pie?” Roy guessed.

“Winry’s blackberry pie,” Ed agreed, a little bit dreamily. “It’s better than anything else in the entire world.”

Roy had been hearing nothing but praises sung high for Winry’s legendary pie-making abilities for weeks leading up to their trip. He’d grown mostly immune to that, too. “What, exactly, makes it so wonderful?”

“Hard to say. Al thinks it’s the crust. Buttery and flaky and it just kinda _melts._ I think it’s probably the filling. She digs through the baskets and finds the fattest and the sweetest berries and then _drowns_ them in sugar and lets them sit for _hours._ ”

“If Ms. Rockbell is so particular about her berries, why isn’t _she_ out here picking them and sparing me your incessant whining?”

“Because that’s not how it _works._ Al and I pick the berries, Winry makes the pie. That’s how it _goes,_ ” Ed said, slowly like he was speaking to a child or someone very, very stupid.

“Then why isn’t _Alphonse_ out here with us?”

Ed made another face. “He wants to be alone with her.”

Now that Roy could understand. “And in return, I get to be alone with you.”

“Yeah, I _guess._ ”

“And they say romance is dead,” Roy said dryly.

Ed scoffed and looked over at Roy, tossing his bangs back out of his eyes with the least juice-covered of his hands. “Who says that? ‘Cause don’t think I’ve forgotten about those damn _candles_ and that _rose petal heart_ from Valentine’s day.”

“And don’t think I’ve forgotten about what followed your discovery of the candles and the rose petal heart,” Roy purred, and the flush that immediately jumped to Ed’s cheeks was endlessly gratifying.

“Is that all you ever think about?” Ed was clearly working to keep his voice steady. “You’re such a pervert, you know that?”

Roy set his basket on the ground and closed the space between them in a few short strides, cupping Ed’s face in his hands. “ _You’re_ all I think about,” he corrected in a low murmur. He tipped Ed’s head back and slotted their mouths together, sliding a hand from his cheek and into his hair under the thick of his braid as he deepened the kiss.

Ed breathed a quiet moan into Roy’s mouth, one hand tightening automatically in his shirtfront as he threw his arm around his neck to hold him in place for a few more breathless moments before breaking away. “Pervert,” he accused again, but there was no fire in it. “We’re supposed to be working.”

“We’re on vacation, love,” Roy murmured, tightening his hold on Ed and drawing him impossibly closer. “I think a bit of distraction is a forgivable sin.”

Ed muttered in grudging agreement, burrowing his face into the curve of Roy’s throat. “Just s’long as we don’t take _too_ long. I don’t want Al an’ Winry to think we were _doing_ anything.”

Roy had to laugh. “I would imagine your brother and Ms. Rockbell are finding similar distractions,” he pointed out, undaunted by Ed’s immediate noise of protest at the very thought. “Besides, that ship has rather sailed, I think,” he said, pulling back a little to take in the smears of purple across Ed’s face and hair.

Ed paled, eyes flicking between the finger-shaped stains on Roy’s shirtfront and collar, their origins unmistakable.  “We’re never gonna hear the end of this,” he moaned.

“No, probably not,” Roy agreed, pulling Ed close again. He dipped his head and licked away one of the more prominent purple streaks near the corner of his mouth, drawing a little whimper from the younger man. “And in that case, we might as well take all the time we want.”


End file.
